I didn’t do it. That’s all I could say when I saw the cat squished under a tire of my car, its back completely broken, its eyes hanging from its furry head. Ted Nugent’s ‘Cat Scratch Fever’ was playing on the radio from my car and I was starting to feel a little sick. I didn’t do it.
I didn’t do it. It must have been a cat based suicide, so I’m not to blame. I got back into the car and moved my car to unpeel the dead cat stuck to my tire, it made a scraping sound. Ah Tiddles! Or Beans! Or Mariah Carey! Or whatever you’re called! I’m so sorry!
I got out the car with a plastic shopping bag and scooped the remains. My plan was to bin it, pretend nothing happened. Or that it didn’t even matter. After all, it’s just a cat. I have a sever allergy to them anyway, so it could have killed me first. Yeah, that’s it.
I put the cat bag on the passenger seat and drove away. As I drove I wondered how many cats were squashed by traffic a day. Surely I wasn’t the only one who’d hit one of the furry critters today? The cat should have waited like a human would. It should have used some common sense.
Do cats have common sense?
I drove aimlessly, forgetting where I was meant to be going, forgetting what I’d been doing. All I could do was drive, and I put on a soothing tape of Enya to put my mind off it all.
It was about half an hour, maybe ten minutes, maybe five that the bag started to rustle. It rustled and rustled and I couldn’t stop watching the rustling. Had it somehow survived? It isn’t too uncommon for an animal that appears dead to rise up and carry on purring for fish and milk.
But because I was watching the bag, I crashed into a tree. Like in the cartoons. Only there was blood involved. And I didn’t go through the window in comedy fashion. Well it might have been funny to some.
I led on the grass outside my car, everything was a blur. Shoot, I didn’t do it. I didn’t crash my car.
It wasn’t me. It was the cat!
The cat chose to flatten itself under my tire, and it changed its mind about wanting to be dead so it made me crash instead. It wasn’t me.
As I bled out, I watched half a cat clamber from my now compact vehicle, and it looked at me as if to say ‘Where’s my milk and fish, bastard?’
Or something like that.
And as I bled, I remembered just what it was I was doing before.
I was driving from my girlfriends as she had kicked me out. For sleeping around.
Bet you can guess the next bit…
I didn’t do it. I swear.